Downstairs, Luke finds the kitchen cleaned up and the house cleared out. When he steps onto the back porch, he sees Seth, staring into the dark. A bottle of bourbon balances on the porch railing. Hearing Luke, the crack of the door, Seth straightens up and turns. “She okay?”
“She’s restin’.”
Relief passes between the brothers, a calming of adrenaline, of nerves.
“Thank Christ,” Seth exhales. “Think I had ’bout five years scared off my life.”
“You’re tellin’ me.” Luke joins Seth at the railing, surveying the empty driveway. “Thanks for cleanin’ up.”
Seth nods. “No problem. Em did most of the work.” He passes his brother a glass of honey-colored liquid, which Luke promptly shoots back. Seth stares at him a long moment before refilling it.
Luke sits in a chair and buries his face in his hands. He breathes in and out. He wants to punch a door. Punch something. Hard. He feels helpless. So goddamn helpless.
Seth’s low rumble shakes up the night. “Luke, you okay?”
“I don’t know.” Luke’s voice is thick with grief. “I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on. She’s goin’ to see a doctor Tuesday. If something’s wrong ...” He breaks off, stricken. His chest aches like a bitch, like his heart’s being torn apart.
Seth drops into a chair beside him. “Nothing’s wrong with Sal. You hear me? You’re worryin’ about something that hasn’t happened yet.”
Luke’s throat knots. He’s so damn grateful for his brother. For continuously being a silent source of comfort, for always having his back. For looking after Sal. He doesn’t know what he’d do without Seth. His brother’s been there for him through the lowest lows and highest highs, and Luke intends to do the same. Whenever Seth needs it.
Luke smears a hand down his face, drains his bourbon. “The baby stuff’s too much.” He shakes his head, lost in thought, almost talking to himself. “It was too soon. We should have waited longer. I don’t know what it’ll do to her if we lose any more.”
Seth’s brow furrows. “Any more?”
“We lost a few,” he grits out, the admission painful. While Seth knows they’re trying, Luke’s spared him all the gory details. “After Henry. One late last year. One a few months ago.”
“Shit, man.” Seth’s wincing. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s hard to take. Seein’ her in pain.” His throat knots up and he damn near chokes on the words. “I want to help her, but I can’t. I can’t fix it. I can’t do fuckin’ anything.”
Sympathy clouds Seth’s eyes. He leans over to clasp his brother on the shoulder. “You’re doin’ your best, Luke. You can’t protect her from everything. Even though I know you want to. Hell, even though I want to.”
Luke nods, his jaw tight as he battles his demons. Battles his worry that the world they’ve been living in so safely for the last year could be easily shattered at any time.
“How are you doin’ with it?” Seth asks. “It can’t be easy on you either.”
He meets his brother’s stare. Telling him he’s worried. Telling him he cares. With a shaky exhale, Luke bows his head and grips the back of his neck. “Christ,” he says, and his voice is a rain cloud beginning to leak. “It’s hard to take. I can’t take anything else. I can’t lose anything more.”
Seth squeezes Luke’s shoulder. Together, they sit in silence, the night opening around them, the chirr of crickets, the soft neigh of the ponies in the field, fireflies blinking their golden light.
Somewhere in the house, a floorboard creaks. Seth glances over his shoulder at the screen door, frowns, then turns back to Luke. “It’s all gonna work out, man.”
Luke nods, sucks in a breath as he stares out into the dark. “Yeah. I hope so.”